The Last Gunfighter Ballad
by Deadlock Rebel
Summary: Every gunslinger has their start somewhere. Young McCree is no different. Following the adventures of McCree at his start in the Deadlock Rebels, we see him taken under the wing of Darrin, an old and grizzled man that's proven he has grit and a penchant for staying alive through his experience and expertise. Seeing a bit of himself in the new prospect, Darrin gets to teaching.


p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;" align="center"span style="text-decoration: underline;"The Last Gunfighter Ballad/span/p  
p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;" align="center"By Tony Jenkins/p  
p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;" align="center" /p  
p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;" align="center"span style="text-decoration: underline;"Chapter 1: The Old Gunfighter On The Porch/span/p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;"McCree sat in the old rocking chair on the porch outside the bar, staring off into the evening sun when not looking down at his branding, the burn of the needles still fresh in memory. He wasn't sure what he had done to allow him into the family after all this time, but he was certainly grateful for the opportunity to prove himself and finally start rising up the ranks. It was finally time to make something of himself, the only way he really ever knew how. That way, was by any means necessary./p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""You know you're one of us now, don't ya?"/p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;"An unfamiliar voice rang through McCree's ears, but before he could even say anything in response the old man sat down in the chair opposite the bar doors from where young McCree sat./p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""You really remind me of myself at your age, you know. Hell, I can even remember when I first got my mark too," the old man continued to speak. "I'm sorry. I should probably actually introduce myself. While I'm sure you've seen me around, I know I haven't even given you the time of day. Didn't feel the need to. You hadn't proven yourself yet." he laughed as he finished. "Anyway, I'm Darrin, but as the rest of the family calls me, you can call me Old Timer. Don't let it go to your head though. I'm old, and my running and gunning days are long behind me, but I'll still bust your head in quick enough if ya tempt me."/p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""Yes sir." McCree replied. He knew he'd seen the man around a bit, talking to some of the members around here and there, but had never dared ask for a name of someone that probably didn't want or need to have anything to do with him to begin with. McCree was uncertain why all of a sudden the old man had anything to say to him at all, let alone take interest in starting up a conversation. Darrin motioned to one of the nearby members to bring him some drinks./p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""You see son, there's only two times in this world that are ever going to really matter. It'd do you well to learn what they are right now. One of those times, is five o' clock." he said, cracking open some beers with the opener on his pants. "It's always five o' clock somewhere… and that, my boy, is as good a reason as any for a man to drink when he wants to." he finished, taking the first sip from his own beer before handing the other to McCree./p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;"Moments of silence that seemed like an eternity passed, but all McCree could do is stare and think, his mind not quite firing on all eight, as he was still trying to figure out the reason Darrin sat down to speak to him. Here he had next to him the old long haired veteran of the Deadlock gang. Old he might be, but Darrin still took some pride in his appearance, simple as it was. His hair was long and grey, but well kept. His beard medium in length, but still well groomed, shades of grey and white throughout its fine haired length. The man never dressed fancy for someone of his status, though. Jeans, his boots, his flannel, a vest. All adorned with a simple bandanna worn about his neck hanging down, and of course, the man was never without one of his hats./p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""The other time that matters?" Darrin asked, as if supposing McCree would eventually ask on his own. "Well son, that's when men meet. When deadly games of pride are played over the turn of a joke, and it's over faster than a snake's bite or the blink of an eye. It's when slow men die. High noon, McCree. Remember that. Always." Darrin spoke, before growing quiet, staring off into the distance as if remembering something deep inside his mind. "These days everyone fights with fancy everything. Guns that aim for you, augmentations to their bodies, special shields and armor. It's just not quite the same as the men before us had it, the way I wanted to have it. And it's that same respect I want you to have. There's nothing quite like feeling the weight of the gun in your hand; a real man's gun, McCree. Not these weapons you see some of these other guys using around here." Darrin trailed off, as if giving McCree the chance to ask questions. McCree was quick on the trigger to ask away./p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""I'm really not sure why you're telling me all this sir. I mean, I don't know what to say. All I know is I'm sure as hell glad to finally be one of the gang. I remember when I was first picked up and just made an errand boy. I didn't think I'd even make it this far, honestly. I was full on expecting to die at an early age. No parents, no home, no money. Nothing. All I could do was give this all I got and do what I could with what I had." McCree said, before Darrin interrupted him from speaking further./p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""And that's exactly why you remind me of myself, boy. You do what you can with what you got, even if it ain't much and you don't give a damn no how about what anyone thinks of it. You're a simple man, just like myself. And it's exactly for that reason, that I've decided to take you under my wing. I wouldn't do this for just anyone, you hear? But you've got guts kid. My days of glory are over, and while some of these young assholes don't believe every story I tell. I've got more than enough experience to teach from, and that's something they probably won't live long enough to have of their own I'm afraid. But you… You I can teach. You're stubborn as a mule and sometimes quick at the mouth to land in trouble, but you've got spirit, kid."/p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;"Darrin took off his hat and bandanna and handed them to McCree. McCree was absolutely stunned, forgetting his beer he had barely touched, the burning of his fresh tattoo and even the setting sun off in the horizon./p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""Tomorrow we're going to get you some decent boots, kid. If you're going to be under my wing, you're going to dress like me and learn to appreciate things from yesteryears. And one more thing." said Darrin, taking off his belt and holster to hand to McCree. "I want you to wear this for all the honest world to feel, and I want you to wear it with pride. I picked this beauty up some years ago from the Los Muertos boys. Said they lifted it from a gun store in their parts, but I reckon its got a lot of history to it. It's served me well over my years, and I've had some upgrades done to 'er. I think she'll do right in your hands."/p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""Thank you, sir," McCree exclaimed. "I don't..."/p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;""Don't say anything, lad. You've got a good start on your manners, but don't say nothin' just yet. Your training with me starts tomorrow. Come tomorrow morning, I want you to slap some bacon on a biscuit and get to it, because you'll be burning daylight. Now get the hell outta here. I've got some drinking to do."/p  
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p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 200%;"McCree put on his new hat and bandanna, wearing it just like Darrin, before putting on and buckling his new gun and its home around his waist. It rest a little loose around him and hung to his side, but as McCree would come to know that's just the way he'd need it. With a tipping of his hat to Darrin like McCree had seen in some very old clip, he made his way back to his bunk for the night, more excited than he thought possible to be part of the only real family he's ever known. He was finally a true Deadlock Rebel./p 


End file.
